About Me

I write down the fragments that flash past, because they are never as slight as they look. Every note is a treasure hunt; you never know what you will dig up. They are duckweed on the water: tug at one and you find roots much longer than you expected, tangled with everything else. So my writing runs as a stream. When I set down the first line I do not know what it will bear. That is up to my hands, and to whatever they type as the thing goes where it goes.

I learn this way too. You may have heard of the Feynman technique: explain something aloud and you understand it better. That is more or less what I do, except that writing beats speaking to a person. You do not have to manage anyone’s feelings; you only have to imagine an audience that might exist. Any hour, any place. Writing is free of all that.

These days my interest sits where AI meets software architecture: how to write robust, efficient, clean code in an AI-native era. People like to joke that AI will replace everyone. I have never believed it. There is a place for people in every era. We do not race cars on speed, we ask what they can do for us, and that is my whole view on whether AI replaces us.

Fixing on what has been replaced rather than on what can be built above it fences you in and quietly closes the road ahead. Better to learn to drive than to mourn the decline of horsemanship. Only the steel beast will carry you a hundred kilometres an hour across open country, far past the limit of the finest horse.